Cold Loss
by Raven-Rach
Summary: Max is the hero, the one who will save the world... Did you ever think about what would happen if Maximum Ride couldn't do it? If the Undefeatable Max failed? A Oneshot.


**Just a little one-shot I wrote a few months ago. Somewhat depressing, but that must have been the mood I was in!! Honestly, I don't think it's that great- but I didn't think that Never Forgive Me was either and you seemed to like that. Lol, let me know what you think anyway =]**

* * *

It was cold in the sewer. So cold that fancy, descriptive words couldn't be used. The freezing temperatures numbed the brain and rendered it useless for eloquent speech. There was no other word that could relate how awful the bitter sting was, other then the simple classic adjective 'cold'.

With barely concealed chattering teeth and blue-tipped extremities, the teenage boy rubbed his frost-bitten fingers together. The other gathered people huddled in groups for warmth and talked about the usual topics of interest. Things that didn't interest the teen in the corner, although he occasionally turned an ear their way.

"You can't blame the Government for this. We all know it was that girl," said a gruff bearded man in the middle

"Yeah," seconded a scrawny youth at his side. "That Maximum Failure. Bloody mutant that sent this country into destruction-"

"I wouldn't," the teen began to say. Everyone slowly turned to face the hooded figure crouched in the corner, it was the first time he had spoken. For two days he had been staying here. At first they had tried to talk to him, he had merely shaken his head or given a curt nod. They had given up and let him sit alone in his reclusive solitary state. "I wouldn't judge people that you know nothing about. I wouldn't speak about them behind their backs when they can't defend themselves. And you should could count your lucky goddamn stars that she can't because she would kick your unworthy behinds from here to next week." His voice was rough, with a dangerous guttural edge and it sounded as though he hadn't spoken in a while.

A middle-aged man with tan skin and very dark stubble gave a deep laugh. "And I suppose you would be a close friend of the little birdie, would you lad?" Everyone in the circle chuckled.

He stood up, standing at a magnificent height of over six foot. He was lean and muscled, beneath his hood his prominent cheekbones were very clear and his dark, sparkling eyes. "As a matter of fact I would," the words were spoken in a low timbre and it now seemed that the threatening edge of danger was a permanent description of his voice.

"Aye, well then if I were you I would reconsider my choice of friends. That little freak destroyed this country! We gave her the honour of defending us, we placed our trust in her and she let us all down," the bearded man growled loudly. Others gave a cheer of encourage- he voiced the strong views of all.

"Do **NOT **refer to Maximum Ride in that manner or I will defend her honour myself as she is absent and unable to do so." The teen was furious, and with a purposeful stride approached the group of homeless complainers. "You speak of being let down and backstabbed- you know nothing of it. Maximum Ride has more honour in her little finger then you people have in your entire bodies. She has lived through torture and pain since the day she was born. Her own father betrayed her to her deepest enemies, she has been hunted like an animal, tormented with the cruellest forms of torture and had her good name trodden on by fools like you."

The crowd went wild, a few of the stronger men stepped forward with clenched fists. "How dare you call us fools," roared one man. "What did that girl ever do for us? What good did she ever do?"

The teen turned his hooded face towards them, unleashing the full effect of his powerful eyes on the hordes of the homeless. They gleamed with strength and sincerity.

"She did nothing but good. She was not just a friend to me, she was my protector. Maximum Ride kept me alive since I was a baby, she loved me, cared for me and never once let me down. She was a mother to me when everyone else abandoned me and wanted me dead."

Two magnificent wings shot out from his back with a snap. They spread at least thirteen foot wide and rendered everyone absolutely speechless. People stood awestruck and gaping, it was as though a vengeful angel had been sent to earth- a source of fantastic inspiration to any artist, nobody could deny the beauty held in each masterful feather that fanned out behind the powerful and proud boy with the scruffy hair and defined muscles.

He appeared to almost snarl at the gathering in front of him. It was obvious that he was fiercely protective of Max and would not leave them in peace until he had proved to them how wonderful she was. He would not leave until he had changed their minds.

"She was a hero," he began.

The idiotic youth with the scraggly, scrawny frame scoffed. "She failed us all. She was never a hero."

Threateningly, the winged boy advanced and the youth hastily stepped further back into the crowd. "Hold your tongue," he commanded. "There will never be a hero that comes close to rivalling my Max. Never. She gave her life for everyone else- for me, for that young idiot with the big mouth, for every single one of you ungrateful idiots. And she may not have succeeded, but not one person in this place knows what she went through."

The shivering men and women before the winged fellow could sense his pain. His searing emotions of distress and hurt that seemed to flood the entire sewer along wit the bitter bite of the wind. They were hostile, not believing in the legend that was this boy's family- but they were now hooked in the saga. They wanted to hear this story. Unlike the pessimistic grumblings about their ruined country, this was a fresh take on an over-told yarn. This boy was not complaining about the weather, about the unfair life on the surface or the long lost hope- he was recounting a biography of someone that he believed to be a hero. He held passion in his voice and they were enthralled.

"Maximum Ride was raised in a lab- as was I. We called it The School, it was a place of such awful experiments, such pain and terrible horrors that it scarred all those who had been there forever. We were avian-human hybrids, 98% percent human and 2% bird. There were six of us: three girls, three boys; Max was our leader. We lived in cages, cramped, undernourished, abused and scared. Every day we saw failed experiments slowly die at our sides. Each one of us was put through horrible experiments by scientists that were evil through and through, they were physical and mental experiments that pushed us too far past the limits. Our 'Flock' was one of the only successes. But we hated it, Max's father was actually a scientist in The School and he helped us to escape. They could never let us go though- they sent monsters after us constantly. We were always on the run, but we were free. Maximum sacrificed everything for us, she put herself in danger over and over to keep us alive."

The teen stopped, the breeze fluttered some of his glossy feathers and tussled locks of hair. He paused to sigh and close his eyes, letting the memories engulf him as his audience hung on his every word. The wind whistled down the sewer but they all forgot to shiver, too engrossed in the story to care about their own discomforts.

"And then they captured her. Tried to force her to help them with their evil plans, but she refused. Those sick scientists wanted her to help kill millions of innocent people and she wouldn't do it. They killed her biological brother, and even though it hurt her so much, she still refused. Max escaped and brought his body with her, gave him a proper burial and returned all her broken-hearted attentions to her Flock. She focused on us at all times and never let us know how upset she was, she was strong; a fighter to the end."

The boy cleared his throat hoarsely. "And then your Government- the people who had never tried to help, who had done nothing but put us in danger and try to lock us away; they asked her to save your world. She never wanted the glory, she wanted to try her best and get the job done but your stupid leaders turned it into a circus. They called every news station and every magazine- we couldn't go anywhere, and because of that our enemies knew where we were at all times. They kidnapped my sister- a member of our Flock- Max's daughter for all extensive purposes, her little Angel, the child she reared and loved. They took Max's biological sister too. Both were completely innocent. …. Those evil egotistical maniacs killed them in front of Max. But she still wouldn't give up no matter how absolutely ruined and distraught she was. Her heart was shattered and torn but she kept fighting for you people."

He glared at them all with glistening eyes full of burning pain. "You say that Maximum Ride let you down- she saved you. She kept fighting even when you took everything she ever had from her. And when you Leaders made a fatal error, they turned it on her. They blamed her and led the nation to believe it was her fault. They made it impossible for her to live.

Maximum Ride was a hero. A genuine, god honest hero. A person who fought for people that hated her, she fought for what was right and lost everything in the process. Yet all you fools can do is blacken her name. You never knew her, so think before you speak of her."

A weathered woman with wrinkled skin stepped hesitantly forward. "What is your name, son?"

"First of all, I am no one's son but hers. Maximum Ride was my mother, she named me, protected me and loved me. The name's Gaz." he muttered bitterly.

A few people mumbled at the back of the group, most just stared at him in awe- touched by his story. Not many had missed his use of the past-tense. "I thought she lived… I never knew that she… I'm sorry for your loss." A middle-aged man with sandy hair spoke up.

Gazzy turned to him with a grim expression. "Maximum Ride lives, her body is alive and living in hiding with the remnants of her Flock: her husband Fang, her remaining sister and her two brothers. But Maximum Ride- the person who was characterised by her strength and power is broken, she is as good as dead. You and your people are to blame for that. In my mind she will always be a hero. Just think before you badmouth those you don't know. No one will ever know how truly great she was or how much we all went through."

Without speaking another word he left. He didn't walk with a purposeful stride, or the gait of a warrior- he shuffled with his head hung low and cold hands shoved in his pockets. Making his way out of the sewer he began to fly home to his family. To Max and Fang, Iggy and Nudge. They would talk about trivial things and try to forget the past. Gazzy tried not to cry as he made his way back- cry for his fallen leader or his dead sister. The sister who he had last seen in the dismal sewer he had just left- it had been the only place he wanted to spend her anniversary. But as he flew through the numbing cold, he surrendered to his memories and allowed himself to let the tears flow just for one night.

None of those who were there that night ever saw him again, but when the night came and nothing was left to do but tell stories around tiny wavering flames, they would huddle together and tell the tale of the great hero and the winged boy who spoke of their life of sacrifice. And it always made them feel a horrifically bitter cold bite deep into their bodies, whether it was present or not.


End file.
